


Drinking With Ghosts

by Edie_Sunshine



Series: Just Two Guys [17]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edie_Sunshine/pseuds/Edie_Sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of the S5 episode, Laying Pipe, Chibs is struggling to deal with what he witnessed in the box.</p><p>Beta'd by Spacebabe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking With Ghosts

One a.m and Chibs steps into the silent house, clicks the door shut behind him. Wake's done with and he just needs to be alone, get his head around everything, school himself to deal with everyone else's shit. He probably would have been better off taking his bike up into the hills or something, but truth be told, after two days in the pen, he doesn't feel safe anywhere, just wants to be back on homeground.

A few hours and then he can go back to looking after the rest of them.

Yesterday he'd watched as Opie was beaten to death and then, this morning, they'd all been let out like it was nothing but a bad dream. 

Jax has been shuttered and Tig, clingy as a babe in arms. The rest of the Sons are little better, looking to Bobby and him for wisdom, when there are no words that'll make it all better. 

In the bedroom he shares with Juice, Chibs kicks off his boots and lets his jacket and cut fall to the floor before he sits down on the bed, swings his legs around and props himself on the pillow. He forces the window open and fumbles around on the sill for an ashtray as he sparks up. 

The breeze is tugging on the cable to the blinds, making it spin and dance, and the air is like angel's breath on his skin after the sluggish heat of the pen.

He remembers that clunk of cold fear when Jax told them what Pope had got planned. He'd seen it all: Tig kept alive for the amusement of the state pen's inmates, and himself, beaten to death in that box. 

Jax and Opie have always been tight, for as long as Chibs has known them. Even when they were seventeen and bunking off high school, Chibs a lowly prospect trying to bully them into turning up for class, and hide their antics from their parents, the two of them shared this strange internal language of looks and understanding that kept everyone else out. Most of the time Chibs hadn't got a clue what they were on about.

That day in the box, Jax and Opie had done that secret language thing again and Chibs had known nothing was gonna break that bond. Chibs was a Son, a brother, but he didn't share that connection, and to Jax, he wasn't irreplaceable. Chibs had known it was gonna be him. He'd known he was dead.

He doesn't remember thinking of Kerrianne, or his mam, or even Juice, not then. That had come later. What he'd thought, what he'd pictured, was the dull blows hitting bone, the loneliness of cowering, surrounded on all sides and completely alone.

But, Opie had changed his mind and now, when he closes his eyes, all Chibs can see is Opie being stomped into chum, all he can hear is the crunch of skull and ribs, sickening squelch of unresisting flesh.

Downstairs, the front door slams and Chibs groans. Then he thinks, no one knows I'm here. He'd left Juice behind at the clubhouse without a word, the younger man skittish as he babysat Grandpa Clay. 

Right now, Chibs could do for Juicy to just keep out of his way, maybe go sleep in the other room. Because Juice is gonna be tearful, and watchful, and want the strength and wisdom that Chibs is fresh out of.

He hears feet padding softly on the stairs and then a tap on the door frame and Juice is peering round the door.

'Hey.' The door creaks as Juice pushes it open, steps into the room.

Chibs doesn't say anything, takes a drag on his cigarette.

'You want me to-' Juice gestures back towards the door and Chibs knows he can't send the lad away yet, owes it to him to keep his face on for five more minutes, make sure Juicy's alright. Chibs didn't spend long in the army but he learned enough to know that rank sticks. If your commanding officer goes to pieces, you know you're in the shit. Juice and he might be fucking like bunnies but the lad doesn't need to see the Sergeant at Arms shaking and wordless. 

'Nah, yer alright.' Chibs wipes one hand across his face and flicks cigarette ash in the vague direction of the ash tray on his belly. He feels every one of his years. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing, I just...' Juice seems to change his mind about what he was going to say. 'Are you okay?'

'Course,' Chibs says. 

Kid's so awkward standing there, like he doesn't belong, like this isn't his bedroom. Chibs looks long and hard. He'd not missed Juice while he was inside, not let himself, not when he had to concentrate on keeping every arsehole in the room within sight, and couldn't afford to let his guard down for a single second.

Chibs stubs out the cigarette, pats the bed next to him. 'Come here.' 

The lad breaks into a relieved grin, comes over and rests one warm hand on Chibs' knee as he perches on the side of the bed. His thumb worries at Chibs' jeans, finds a tiny hole in the fabric and his expression goes all cautious.

'Opie, man...' Juice bites on his lip, fiddles with the hole a little more. 

His face, his whole frame has gotten thinner in the last few weeks, like he's trying to disappear. If Chibs' mam gets a look at the lad she's gonna be force feeding him deep fried Mars bars and Irn Bru, glaring at Chibs for not taking better care of him. 

'You saw the whole thing?' Juice's eyes flicker up at him and then back down again, hide behind his eyelashes as he stares at Chibs' knee like it's gonna answer him. Juice doesn't need to ask that, he already knows Chibs was there. Chibs has a sudden flash of what Juice is trying to do. He's testing the ground, trying to work out if Chibs feels like sharing. 

He really doesn't.

'Yeah.' Chibs puts the overflowing ash tray back on the window sill, lines the cigarette packet and his lighter up beside it. He could haul the other man in, get lost in him but he's pretty sure he's not up to it yet.

'So, what were you up to while we were in that shit hole?' Chibs asks, more as a way of changing the subject.

Juice shrugs, the makings of a smile ghosting around his lips before he schools his expression. 

'What?' Juice shrugs, flushes a little, and Chibs laughs. 'Come on, Juicy. Spill.'

'You know that chick, Carla?' Juice's finger manages to make the hole in Chibs' jeans a little worse.

'Ohhh, the grand dame, eh? Howd'you manage that?'

Juice shakes his head, 'No, she picked me up. Seriously!'

Chibs tries to picture it. For some reason, Juice is on a collar and lead, licking Carla's stilettos. 'Bet she taught you a few tricks...'

'Are you kidding?' Juicy is bug eyed. He hesitates and then grins, looks away for a moment and then the grin gets wider, but shyer all the same. 'I even got paid!'

'Eh? That chica paid you? For services rendered?' 

Juice reaches under the bed, pulls out his little tin box of keep sakes. There's an envelope on the top, stuffed with a wad of bills.

'Oh, next round's on you then, eh?'

'No way! I'm keeping it.' Juice thumbs the wad of cash with something akin to reverence, puts it back in the envelope and then puts the lid back on the box, returns it to its space under the bed.

Chibs can't help laughing at the lad, pulls him down into the bed with an arm around his neck. 'If you think I'm payin' yer...'

'Dude, seriously, you couldn't afford me.' Juice lets himself be pulled, shifts around so that he's half lying on Chibs, half on the bed and they're both sharing the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. He presses a kiss to Chibs' cheek and then nuzzles in under his chin. The world recedes, just enough that Chibs can sink into the mattress, enjoy the warmth of Juice in his arms again.

&&&

The alarm clock on Juice's side of the bed blinks up three am. In Chibs' arms, Juice's body is vibrating, his teeth chattering. He presses a kiss to Juice's temple, jostles him as he fiddles with the shitty catch on the window.

'Better?'

'Yeah...' Juice still huddles close though, reaches behind him to pull the duvet up around himself so he's all wrapped up like a caterpillar. His eyelashes tickle Chibs' neck as the lad blinks, once, twice, and then he starts to snore.

Chibs won't be sleeping any time soon, though. He should get up, but Juice is solid in his arms, like the only thing Chibs has left in the world.

Chibs remembers his Granda's passing, back when he was eleven. Remembers going 'round to help clean out the house with his mam. Unopened post, stacked up in the wardrobes, dating back to the forties, moth balls and ancient false teeth in the drawers. 

He'd not seen his Granda since his Grannie died, since the old man had a screaming row with Chibs' da. 

In the intervening years, Granda's back garden had gone from rows of well tended vegetables, prize winning runner beans and monster pumpkins, to brambles and nettles, stink of tomcats. 

His da had lit a bonfire in the back garden, burned all the unopened letters, photos and junk, his face hard as granite. And Chibs had watched as dozens of rosette ribbons had gone up in smoke, First Prize, Second Prize, Highly Commended. And like that, the Granda Chibs had grown up in awe of, was all gone. If you went back to the house now, you'd never know the man had existed.

Chibs feels it creeping up his gut, like lava. He gulps, manages for a second to keep a lid on it, keep his body still so Juicy won't wake, and then that's it, not a chance and he's shuddering and sobbing, his whole body shaking with it.

'Chibbie? Oh shit, babe-' And then there are arms around him, pulling him closer and turning him so that there's fuck all chance of hiding anything from the lad. 

If he had any strength left over, Chibs would be crawling up his own arsehole with embarrassment. Thank god it's only Juicy seeing him like this and he can blackmail the lad later if he has to. 

Juicy's hand is rubbing circles on his back and it's so soothing, Chibs thinks he could just stay here forever. If Jax and Bobby need to talk to him, they can just fucking come over, tell him whatever it is while Chibs lies all snuggled up, having a back rub. 

Juice's t shirt is soaked through, slimy under Chibs' cheek. He takes a deep breath, puts a bit of distance between them again. He's got a splitting headache.

'Yeah, come on, pack it in, Juicy. I'm alright.' His voice is still shaking though, his throat all constricted.

'Yeah, whatever, asshole.' Juice mutters and pulls him back, so they're lying there facing each other and Juice has Chibs' head cupped in his hands and he brushes his lips softly over Chibs' own, breath hot and sighing. 

And, okay, maybe it's okay to just lie there for a bit longer, get his breath back. 

'Clay sponsored Opie, didn't he?' Juice's voice is soft, little more than a whisper. If he had to guess, Chibs would say that Juice is trying to take his mind off the fact that Chibs has smeared snot all over him and has just been bawling like a girl. He's happy to go along with it.

'Aye. An' Piney sponsored Jax.' Chibs pushes his hair out of his eyes, does fuck all, the stuff just slides right back again. 'I was bottom o' the pile back then so I got saddled with watching out for their sorry arses...' 

Juice reaches out and tucks the lock back behind Chibs' ear and what the fuck, it actually stays put. Kid's always had the knack for it. 

'I used to get a phone call in the middle of the night from one or other of them an' it was always, 'don't tell my old man, but-'' Chibs snorts at the memory. It had seemed like he was always driving out some place to pull them out of a fight, a bar, or a holding cell. 

One time he'd found them locked up in a dog crate in some guy's back yard. He's pretty sure it had been something to do with a chick, with her old man finding one of them with her, and then the other one wading in to help his buddy, and they both got chucked in there. 

'A crate? Like for fighting dogs? What did you do?' Juice is laughing already. Chibs reaches behind him for his smokes, then realises he doesn't want one. He scrabbles one hand around on Juice's bedside locker instead and finds a stick of chewing gum, folds it into his mouth and chews a few times to soften it. It's that horrible cinnamon flavoured stuff. Better than mint, though.

'Took one look at 'em. An' they weren't wearing much more than their undies. Took one look, turned on mah heel and walked off, left 'em to it.' 

'No way!' Juice's eyes are huge as a bug's and his grin is in danger of splitting his face in two.

'Yup. Went home, went back to bed an' left em there for the night. The guy drove 'em to the clubhouse in the morning, kicked 'em out an told 'em to never darken his door again.' 

Chibs remembers that the pair of them had swaggered, best they could, into the club house, all bravado ending the moment they caught sight of Gemma.

'You left them?'

'Hey, look, I'd been entertaining at the time...' Chibs grins around his puny bit of gum. 'Poor lads were a bit upset when they saw their home room teacher sneaking out the clubhouse with her shoes in her hand an her knickers in her handbag...'

'You were fucking their high school teacher.'

'Yep.' Chibs remembers the look of awed respect from Jax, barely contained hatred from Ope. 'Poor Opie. Think he might a been sweet on her...'

'Yeah, come on man. Always get one really hot teacher. You must have?'

'In a Catholic grammar school? Joking, aren't you? St Arsenius' was all nuns and they were none o' them a problem like Maria...'

'St Arsenius? Jesus, man, even your fucking school was gay....' Juice pats around on the bedside locker for more gum and when he doesn't find any, he sticks his fingers in Chibs' mouth, takes the gum and bites it in half, returns one half to Chibs' mouth and pops the rest in his own. 

'Hey, cheeky fucker.' Chibs slaps him on the arse and then gets a good handful, hauls the lad in so that their hips are all but welded together. 'I'll have you know, Saint Arsenius was a very wise man. Patron saint o' something or other.'

'Lost causes? There's no flavour left in this gum, by the way.'

'Nah, that's Jude. An' it serves you right.' Chibs slides one hand up Juice's back, pulls the lad's t shirt with it and tugs it off over his head. The lad's skin is all snuggly warm underneath, a complete contrast to the way Opie had felt when Chibs had pressed a kiss to the dead man's forehead. 

Chibs feels like he's just been drinking whiskey on a rollercoaster.

'Piss artists?' Juice says but Chibs really isn't interested any more. 'St Filip, patron saint of piss artists-'

'Shut up Juicy. Need to get some fucking sleep.' He shifts away from Juice and rolls onto his side, feels the lad's eyes burning a hole in the back of his skull.

&&&

Chibs tramps his way down the stairs in the dead of night, just like usual. 

Finds Opie sitting at the kitchen table. 

Okay, not just like usual. 

The man is in his jeans and cut, not a scratch on him. He looks like a giant in the shitty straight backed chair. 

There's a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses on the table before him. 

Chibs is used to drinking with ghosts. He shuffles in, pulling his shitty old bathrobe round himself. He pulls up the chair opposite, taps a smoke out of the pack in his pocket and offers it up. Opie shakes his head, watches as he lights up. 

'You waitin' on me?' Chibs asks and Opie looks at him in a way that might be a nod, might be a blink, might just be a bad case of wind. Inscrutable as always. 

'You an' Juice, huh?' Opie says and Chibs just shrugs. 'Figures.' He glances disinterestedly around the kitchen, 'best dad in the world' mug on the draining board, hokey looking cookie jar on the window sill. Juice's keys are hanging off the little hook by the back door while Chibs' are abandoned on the kitchen counter alongside a stash of assorted coins and pocket fluff. Chibs follows his gaze, tries to see what the other man is seeing. He can't though, everything he sees just screams 'home' at him right now. 

'Why'd you do it, brother?' It's the only question Chibs can think to ask and Opie half smiles as he returns his gaze. 'You shouldn'ta. You got got yer babies to-'

'We all got kids, Chibs. Were you thinkin' about your kid when Jax told you what was gonna happen?' Opie's fists are loose on the edge of the table top. His knuckles are red beneath his rings. 'Did you think about him?' Opie's head jerks in the direction of the upstairs, where Juice is fast asleep.

'Come on, no one thinks like that. Not when it's all going to shite.' Chibs unscrews the cap on the tequila, pours them each a shot and downs his own, refills it. Opie makes no move to drink. There's a deep cut running across the bridge of his nose and one of his eyes has darkened to a filthy purple, green and yellow flowering around the edges.

For a long time, the only sounds are the shitty battery operated clock, ticking, on the wall, the fridge humming, and an intermittent drip, that might be the tap, but Chibs can't be bothered to investigate.

'Didn't think anything.' Opie says, finally. 'Didn't think, didn't feel. Just knew.'

'I don't get yer.' Opie just looks at him though, and suddenly, Chibs does get it. Jax was gonna sacrifice himself, Opie stopped him. 'Jesus Christ...' He puts his head in his hands, claws his fingers through his hair. 'Thought it was me. Thought it was my time,' he says. 

Opie shrugs. 'Wasn't.' There's blood trickling down from his hairline, dripping on the floor. That explains the dripping sound. 

When Chibs looks at Opie properly, he sees that one of his eyes is full of blood, there's a cut to his lip. 

Chibs blinks and it's as if every version of Opie that Chibs has ever known flickers into view, each superimposed, one on top of the other. And, all at once, Opie is the clean faced teenager Chibs used to bully into going to school, the steady voice of reason around the table, and a bloodied pulp dumped on the floor of the box. 

'Wake up, babe,' Opie says and Chibs thinks, huh?

&&&

It's not the first time Chibs has talked in his sleep. Get the guy drunk enough, and you can have hilarious, circuitous conversations about roast beef dinners, the best tyres for riding in the wet and why pixies don't wear underwear. 

Juice read somewhere that you shouldn't wake someone when they're having a bad dream, but there are tears spilling down the other man's face and there's no fucking way Juice is leaving him in that kind of hell. He rolls Chibs from his side to his back, brushes the back of one finger up and down his nose like his mom used to do. Doesn't work. He rubs his knuckles over the guy's sternum instead, like he saw on TV once. 'Wake up, babe.' 

&&&

Chibs gasps awake, lies blinking up at the ceiling for a long moment before his eyes find Juice.

'It's okay, you were just dreaming. You okay?' Juice slides one hand into Chibs' own and gives it a little squeeze. Chibs' heart is going like the clappers but he shakes Juice's hand off, swipes his arm across his face instead, scrubbing the wet away. He sits up, searching for his cigarettes.

'Fine. Just need a smoke.'

Juice says nothing, curls up on his side and pulls the duvet up around his neck.

Sat on the edge of the bed, his toes scuffing against the floor, Chibs' dream is slipping away from him in chunks, losing shape till there's only a vague sense left. He remembers though, that Opie had been calm, at peace, perhaps. He'd made his choice, and that choice had saved Chibs' life. 

Chibs takes a drag on his cigarette, it tastes stale, like he smoked it hours ago and the taste has just been sitting around inside his mouth while he slept. 

Juice is lying there behind him, waiting for him to say something, do something. He could tell the lad to fuck off next door, give him a bit of space. In fact, since Juice is all cosied up in bed, half way back to sleeping again, Chibs should be the one to go sleep in the huffy bed. The thought of walking into an empty room and sliding between frigid sheets has no appeal though. 

He climbs back into bed instead, lies down on his back. And Juice immediately shifts over and presses a kiss to his bicep. 

Daylight comes and Juice's eyelids are drooping. Chibs watches him for a long moment, the way the kid's eyelashes kind of kiss the skin beneath and then flutter away again. Juice's breath is warm on Chibs' face, wafts hints of cinnamon from the gum he got rid of an hour ago.

Chibs wonders how to say he'd dreamt he was sharing a drink with a dead man. 

He's always had vivid dreams, most of them crazy enough that he knows to pay them no mind. But, occasionally, they stick to him, and for years afterwards he is haunted by the details. 

When they were all in Belfast, with Jimmy O hanging over him like a threat, Chibs' dreams had been like some kind of zombie apocalypse, him with a gun, and each squeeze of the trigger, spray of brain matter had felt like a liberation. That he still remembers it years later tells Chibs precisely how ugly his life was back then. 

Nothing's been that bad since. Until two days ago.

'It was between you an' Opie, huh?' Juice's voice is low, nervous little frown pinching his eyes. For a second, Chibs thinks that maybe the lad's overheard his musing. Then, his common sense kicks in. 

'Aye.' 

'I-' Juice sits up on one elbow, goes to speak and then sighs, shakes his head instead. 

Chibs doesn't ask him what he was gonna say. 

In the depths of the house, a whining sound starts up, quiet at first and then gradually getting louder as the cat makes its way up the stairs, pausing every couple of steps to cry some more, since the creature's too stupid to walk and miaow at the same time.

'Fucking Christ!' 

In the bed beside him, Juice sniggers into the middle of Chibs' chest, deposits a kiss there and clambers out of the bed. 'It's okay, I got it.' The lad pulls Chibs' bathrobe off the chair, tugs the hood up over his head. It's big on Chibs and it could easily fit three times around Juice's middle. Yeah, he's gotta get the lad fattened up.

'Um.' Juice pauses at the doorway, presses his forehead against the frame and takes a deep breath. His eyes are closed. 'I'm sorry it happened to Opie.' He opens his eyes, swivels them to catch Chibs, just in the corner. 'But, I'm grateful it didn't happen to you.'

'Juicy-'

'I know it's wrong to think like that but I can't help it.' Juice hovers a little longer, arms wrapped around his middle like he's still cold. 'It's like Jax said, Opie stopped wanting to live when Donna died. So, he made his choice. An' I'm grateful to him for it. Always will be.' Juice raises his head to meet Chibs' eye and his eyes are glittering but proud. 'I think it's okay for you to be glad it wasn't you too.'

Juice turns and pads down the stairs and Chibs watches him go. 

The lad's right. His brother made a sacrifice no one should have to make but that all of them would have, in a heartbeat. He did it so the rest of them could carry on. So, now it fell Chibs to use the time he'd been given, honour the man by living his life.

It's nothing profound, certainly shouldn't have taken him all night, a bunch of tears and a weird dream to figure it out. 

In time, the horror of seeing Opie going like that, will ebb away, lost underneath the sense of a life wasted, and one day, even that will fade a little so that Chibs and his brothers can look back on the man with fond and wistful memories, smile even. The man is at peace now, in a place with no fear and no pain and no suffering. Who else among them can claim the same thing?


End file.
